


Sure Kisses

by hotot



Series: Now Kiss [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Redemption, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotot/pseuds/hotot
Summary: Galen meets the pilot.~~~Tumblr kissing prompt: #11 when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more.This is actually a double prompt for beetle because you prompted me to do this pairing months ago. The prompt was "Galen/Bodhi, smoke, red, first." Here you go my friend! <3





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts).



The alley outside the enlisted bar makes Galen choke a bit. He always wonders at that, how a gathering of sentient life can make a barren rock that used to smell like nothing but metal and wet sky into an olfactory melange of  _ life _ . And life doesn't always smell good.

The smoke from environmental processors dumping into the ally billows and clings around two forms as Galen leads the pilot deeper into the alley, the shadows, and he feels somehow that he is taking part in some ages old tradition of sailors and explorers who make it to port and go looking for the comforts of the flesh. Or maybe Galan is a sad old man looking for meaning where there is none. Galen hasn’t left port in a long time, hasn’t smelled much of life in a long time either, up in his Tarkin Initiative high castle, and the pilot he has by the hand seems to tremble with the excitement of escape, of something new and electric with possibility. Or maybe the piloit is just nervous and intimidated by this mysterious man who is leading him away from his drinking for the promise of sex. Little does he know that Galen is just a sad old man looking for a way to find his daughter, to reach the Rebellion, to get right by himself.

_ He could get right by himself.  _

The red safety lights in the alley cut the smoke into stripes of alternate pink-red light and gray darkness as they find the end of the alley, and Galen turns to the man, Rook—he thinks that is his name—and takes a step forward. He’s pretty, in a nervous, doe-like way. Galen wants to protect him, and knows he can’t. He tilts his head, blinks, and reaches out to cup the pilot’s face. Sparse beard, limpet brown-black eyes. Chapped skin and the lines of stress cut into the way he holds his moth.

_ In the bar he says “I’m a pilot. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m a pilot and I…” _

_ Galen sooths him, looking around to make sure no one is listening. Someone is always listening. He talks anyway, asks if Rook knows a way to get to Jeddah. Their knees press together under the bar and then the pilot asks if he want to get out of here. Galen does. Despite his enlisted getup, he could be easily recognized at any moment.  _

Now in the dark folds of smoke and shadow, Rook takes a step forward and their bodies brush and Galen finds his hands around Rooks narrow waist. Rook leans in. Galen steps forward until the pilot’s back hits the wall with a gentle thump. Rook is a few inches shorter, and Galen leans down. They stare at each other a moment and then Rook takes a breath and flows up to close the distance between their lips. The kiss is poorly executed, sloppy, tastes like Lum, tastes like the bitter Empire, and Galen can’t relax into it. 

Too many years gone by without kisses, he knows. Sweet kisses, passionate kisses, loving kisses, the kind of kisses that leave you breathless and elated. This one is stolen and asking for things Galen cannot yet voice.

The pilot pulls away. “I’m sorry, are you sure—” and Galen can see the flush of embarrassment blooming on his cheeks, the sudden wetness of the man’s eyes. Fraternizing with a superior officer, even off duty could end in reassignment at best, court martial at worse. But to get right by one’s self, one has to take risks, make sacrifices. And somehow, looking into Rook’s eyes right then, a kiss doesn't feel so much like a sacrifice as a note of encouragement, a thread the pilot can follow back to Galen when he needs to remember why.

The plan isn’t clear yet, but Galen’s path has never exactly been the most intuitive one.

A beat passes, and Galen leans in to cup the side of Rook’s face and he presses his lips to the pilot’s in a solemn promise, and a resounding  _ yes _ . Rook takes in a little shuddering breath and opens to him, and Galen can now taste the sweetness beyond the liquor, his tongue darting out to investigate, find out more, and maybe they can both get right by themselves. Maybe it is coercion, or utter loneliness, but in this moment here in the alley behind the enlisted bar, and this is Galen Erso and this is the pilot Rook and they both need to to  _ something  _ until they’re ready to leave port.


End file.
